


Make It Out Alive

by shockumentary



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Drama, Guns, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 09:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockumentary/pseuds/shockumentary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is kidnapped and Sebastian is the only one that can save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt, filled on my tumblr (~shockumentary) a few months back. after the original fill, a lot of people asked for a second part, so here are both of them. this is a lot darker than i'd anticipated and a lot more dramatic than originally intended. there are two OMCs because there was absolutely no way to work them into the glee verse. Enjoy, and feel free to leave me prompts on tumblr!

Something isn’t right and Sebastian can tell. He’s not usually all that perceptive, but he hasn’t heard from Kurt in four days now, and he’s pretty sure that something is not right. It wouldn’t matter so much except that the boy stood him up, and Kurt is anything but late for anything. Usually he’s so punctual that Sebastian finds himself doing his tie in the car. And sure, he supposes, it could be possible that Kurt is avoiding him, but that’s not entirely like Kurt either, and Sebastian is fairly certain that after nearly a year Kurt wouldn’t choose now to decide he wasn’t into it. None of it matters, because he is positive that something is very, very wrong.

He’s nervous the entire drive to the apartment, and he swears they’d get there faster if the damn cabbie would just shut his fucking mouth and drive, but he’d rather not be thrown out on the curb, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead he sits back, wringing his fingers and letting his stomach turn. He lets out a shaking breath when they stop at the curb, and he’s out of the car in record time, tossing bills to the driver. He stops, though, he doesn’t burst through the doors and demand to know what’s going on, and that’s how he had planned it, but now that he’s actually here, there’s a heartsinking feeling that has him moving slower than he’d intended. His steps aren’t rushed or hurried, but delicate and slow instead while he starts up the stairs. He’d always refused the elevator in Kurt’s building, deeming it a human deathtrap, and sure the iron cage around it gave it character, but it was character that Sebastian would rather not have to actually see.

The thought is almost enough to have him smiling, but he’s getting closer, and he can feel that sinking feeling again, spreading through his body and into the pit of his stomach when he notices the door, slightly ajar and that is definitely not something that Kurt would allow. He’d been so paranoid about New York that no matter what he was doing, how occupied his hands were or how much Sebastian demand that he hurry, he’d always taken the time to do up every lock on their way in. There’s a lump in his throat, and Sebastian’s not sure if he’s going to cry or throw up or both, but he slowly pushes the door open, and almost laughs because he’s sure it looks like something out of a bad thriller movie.

The apartment is a mess. Completely ransacked, sketches strewn across the floor and furniture in disarray, the usual put togetherness of the place completely lost. Something is definitely very wrong. He’s a little more panicked, pushing through a maze of chairs while his voice echoes against the walls “Kurt?” but there’s no answer, just as he’d suspected there wouldn’t be. He’s frantic, shoving the larger items from his path and he doesn’t even realize that his voice is near screaming when he calls again “Kurt, answer me god damnit!” and his heart is pounding and his hands are shaking and he’s pretty sure he’s about to cry and throw up. There’s a noise.

His phone is ringing, and he sinks back against the wall while one hand covers his face, and he swipes the other thumb across the screen to answer the call. The phone is pressed tightly to his ear, and he can’t keep the panic from his voice when he speaks “Hello?”

“S-sebastian?” Kurt’s voice is soft, quiet and scared, and Sebastian’s heart sinks all over again.

“Kurt, Kurt where are—“ he can’t finish the sentence before Kurt is speaking again.

“Sebastian they want money…” He’s pretty sure Kurt is crying, and he somehow manages to steel his voice and features, and he swallows hard before he speaks again.

“Anything. They can have anything just—I need you to come home, okay?” The words sound so stupid, he thinks, because of course Kurt would want to come home, of course he doesn’t want to be wherever he is, but mostly he just wants him to know that he’s known, that he hasn’t just realized that there’s something wrong.

There’s a rustling on the other end, and Kurt is screaming and Sebastian is screaming against the phone, demanding their demands, promising they can have anything, as long as Kurt’s safe return is promised.

“No police, no lawyers, no investigators. 500 thousand cash by nine PM, we’ll call back with a location. This is your one chance, Smythe. You don’t show and he dies.” The voice is deep, and Sebastian figures it must be electronic, and it wouldn’t matter if he was recording the call or not. But if they want no cops, no lawyers, no investigators, if they want just his money, he’ll give them just his money. He nods on the other end of the phone.

“Anything.” The word is easy enough, and he is vaguely aware that it holds so much more weight than a promise to a captor. That he would literally give anything for Kurt, and that has to mean something from Sebastian doesn’t-do-relationships Smythe. His voice is betraying him when he speaks again, and he can feel the heat of tears building behind his eyes, “Can I talk to him again? Just for a second, please?” He’s desperate now, and the sigh from the other side is more than a little put out. There’s more rustling of the phone, and Sebastian can distinctly hear that he’s on speaker now, presumably so there’s no way for him to give Kurt any kind of instruction. “Kurt? Kurt listen to me, okay?”

“I’m here…” Kurt promises, and the words only make this more difficult because he’s not there, and he should be, he should be right there beside him and safe, and Sebastian is certain that this isn’t about Kurt at all, and it’s all about what would hurt him the most.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” He’s speaking through tears now, and he can’t see, but he’s sliding slowly down the wall while his shoulders wrack slightly “I’m gonna bring you home and you’re gonna be okay, I promise.” There’s a countdown yelled from across the room, and it echoes through the phone, and Sebastian speaks a little faster, “I’ll see you tonight, baby, okay? I love you so much, just hold on and I’m getting you home—“ the line goes dead, and Sebastian is alone to deafening silence. He glances at his watch; he forces a stop to his tears and pushes himself off the floor. He’s working against the clock now.


	2. Part Two

Kurt doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know who’s got him, but he knows that there’s a real possibility that today is the day that he dies. He’s been here for days at least, maybe a week, but he can’t keep track of time. There are shackles on his ankles, around his wrists, he’s cold and he’s in pain. He’s been locked in the cell for all but a couple of hours since his abduction and he can’t feel his fingers anymore. He’s starved and tired and more than a little delusional, but he swears he remembers Sebastian’s voice, spouting promises of taking him home. He’s not there, though, and Kurt is starting to wonder if it was all a dream, if he’ll ever get out alive.

He’s vaguely aware of the men around him, burly and muscled, and the one that’s damn near emaciated. He’s the ringleader. He’s the one with the power. They never take their masks off, and Kurt has watched enough crime dramas to know what that means. They intend to keep him alive. He’s only collateral. He also realizes that collateral can just as easily become collateral damage. 

 

* * *

 

Sebastian knows what’s happening. He considers a rescue mission but deems it suicide and as far as he’s concerned, neither of them are dying today. He hurries down the stairs and onto the street, the sun an assault to his suddenly sensitive eyes. He’s never been a part of anything like this, and he’s positive that he doesn’t like it for a second, but he’s confident that the bank is the best place to start. He checks his watch. Plenty of time, assuming all goes according to plan, though he’s acutely aware of the saying. He scrambles with his phone, never having been one for walking and talking, but he doesn’t have time for one or the other. It’s ringing, and he’s praying that there’s an answer.

“Dad?” The line is quiet. It’s been a while, he knows. He’s not the best with checking in. The voice on the other end is cold, but that’s nothing new.

“You’re alive.” It’s dull and vacant, and Sebastian is more nervous than he’s ever been.

“I need a favor.” There’s an incredulous laugh from the other man and Sebastian squeezes his eyes closed. He’s not above begging.

“A favor? You haven’t called in months and you’re looking for a favor? What is it this time? Money, I presume. How much?” Sebastian pauses, wondering if maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but he also knows that there’s far more than that in his trust fund, and yes, okay, it’s not to be touched until his parents can’t say no anymore, but it’s an emergency and surely his dad can just trust him on this.

“Five hundred thousand,” he explains, waiting for the reaction. It’s seconds that feel like hours of deafening silence and then there’s a sputter of words.  
  


“Half a million? You want me to hand over half a million dollars? Have you lost your fucking mind?! What have you gotten yourself into!?” Sebastian is shaking his head, trying to interject at every possible second.

“Dad, dad, please! I can’t explain, but it’s an emergency.  This is life or death. If I don’t have this by nine, someone dies. Please, just trust me on this.” He’s begging, but he knows it’s no good. His father is a stubborn man and once he’s said no, he’ll say no a thousand times more.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian, but you are twenty-five years old. It’s time to figure it out on your own.” The line goes dead and Sebastian knows that his safest bet is down the drain and he doesn’t have a plan-b. Not yet, anyway.

He turns into the bank, pushing to the front of the line while panic rises in his chest, spilling out of his mouth after every protest, a loud shout that silences by standers.

“This is a fucking emergency, move!” He looks to the frightened teller, removing his card from his wallet with shaking hands.

“I need to empty my account.”

He leaves with 12 thousand tucked safely into a bank bag and into the back of his jeans, and just as he merges onto the busy sidewalks again, his phone rings.

“You have six hours. Better hurry. You wouldn’t want anything going wrong, would you?” It’s the same voice from earlier, and Kurt is screaming so loud that Sebastian’s stomach turns.

“Stop! Just… don’t hurt him, I’ll have your money, I swear!” He pleads, and the man is laughing, but Kurt’s screams stop, and Sebastian isn’t sure if that’s good or bad.

“Oh, that? That’s not about the money, love. That’s just a bit of fun.”

“I have what you want, if you hurt him, you’ll never see any of it. Remember that.” Sebastian warns, his eyes narrowed at the ground.

“Oh, getting pushy are we? I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands. Remember, we have what  _you_  want. What you’re willing to give everything up for. Without him, you’re nothing. Now, I’ll play nice. Would you like to talk to him? Verification of his safety and all?” He can’t tell for sure, but through the disguise of his voice, Sebastian is pretty sure he can tell an English accent and a light bulb flashes in his head. He doesn’t have to ask to talk to Kurt because Kurt’s talking before he can even say yes.

“Sebastian?” He sounds tired, broken and scared and Sebastian’s heart sinks.

“I’m here, Kurt. I’m here, baby, I’m working on it, okay? I’m going to get you home.” He promises, forcing a hand through his hair to grip tightly.

“Sebastian, listen.  _Tell Rodrigo I need him to feed the cat._ ” Sebastian is confused, because of all of the things that Kurt could be worried about, it’s his cat?

“Kurt, Kurt I don’t think now is a good time to—“

“Tell him. Tell him to  _feed the cat_ , Sebastian. I love y—“ the conversation was cut short, the familiar electronic voice taking over the phone line.

“Nine PM, on the docks.” It’s vague enough, but Sebastian knows exactly where he’s going. The line goes dead and he’s racking his brain, trying desperately to remember what apartment Rodrigo is in. He remembers the conversation, vague and distorted because he was too busy thinking about the way that Kurt’s lips twisted into that sort of half-smile when he’s too excited not to but too busy talking to actually express it.

_“I met some neighbors!” Kurt’s just moved into his new apartment, the one he’d fought for months to get, and Sebastian is happy for him, he really is, but he’s also half wondering why Kurt didn’t just take him up on the offer to move in with him._

_“That’s nice,” he states, vaguely distant while Kurt rambles on, talking about this neighbor and that neighbor and all their idiosyncrasies that only Kurt is perceptive enough to pick up on._

_“…and Rodrigo, he’s a drug dealer, but he’s really nice! He’s down stairs, apartment-“_

And that’s where Sebastian’s brain cuts off. He’s heard the name on more than one occasion, Rodrigo and Kurt hang out all the time, and he can remember it because there was the fight about whether or not Kurt was doing drugs, and after a long night of slamming doors, the conclusion had been reached that he was, indeed, strong enough to be around it without actually doing it.

He hurries back down the block, and he feels like his legs can’t move fast enough, but it’s faster than taking a taxi at this time of day, so he pushes on, forcing the stretch of his legs to unnatural widths. He stops at the front of the building, glancing at the buzzer. First initials, last names. He doesn’t know Rodrigo’s last name, but he figures it can only be one of so many. He narrows it down quickly. Downstairs. Kurt is on the third floor, so it’s got to be in the 1s and 2s. Eliminate all but the R’s, there are three. R. Aguirre, 12B. He fumbles with the key, his heart racing while he tries to check his watch at the same time. 6PM.

He’s at the door in record time, knocking quickly and repeatedly, not giving even a little bit for the potential of sleeping or being busy. The door flies open and he’s centimeters from hitting the man in the face when he drops his hand, speaking breathlessly.

“Rodrigo?” The look of confusion is all he needs, but before he can dart off to find the other two, the man is speaking.  
  


“No, no, you’re looking for Johnson, he’s in 20A.” Sebastian could almost find the humor in a Rodrigo Johnson if he wasn’t so fucking anxious, and he feels a little like he might puke if he doesn’t find him soon, but he’s really not even sure what’s supposed to be happening, but he knows that it was a message, a hint.

He takes the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping after the last, face to face with the actual Rodrigo’s door, knocking as he’d done the first time. The door flies open and he’s faced with a short, stocky man, dark skin, bald head and tattooed from his face, presumably to his toes. He looks confused and a little angry, but Sebastian’s speaking so quickly that there’s no time to question him.

  
“Kurt says give the cat food.” He knows as soon as he’s said it that it’s wrong, but he’ll get the point, and he seems to, because he nods Sebastian in and glances either way down the hall before he closes the door behind him, and suddenly Sebastian isn’t entirely sure that he likes Kurt hanging around him. The apartment is smoky and the familiar, overly sweet smell overtakes his sense.

  
“Want some?” Rodrigo offers him a bowl and Sebastian shakes his head.

“Suit yourself, man. Who are you?” Sebastian isn’t sure what’s going on, but he’s pretty sure Kurt didn’t just send him on a date with a drug dealer.

“S-Sebastian,” he stutters, looking around quickly. “What does feed the cat mean? Why did he send me here?” There are so many questions and Sebastian isn’t even entirely sure that he wants the answers, but Rodrigo speaks on exhale before he can recant his question.

“He’s in trouble?” Sebastian nods, reluctantly, because he’s not sure he should be divulging the information to a stranger, but he trusts Kurt and Kurt trusts him, so he figures he’s safe by extension.

“He needs cash. You clean?” He gives Sebastian a once over and Sebastian knows what he’s asking. He lifts his shirt, exposing his wire-free chest before dropping it back down.

“Come with me.” He does as asked, following the man back through the apartment, past the bedroom and into the closet. He moves a few boxes to expose another door and Sebastian looks confused, wondering if he’s somehow missed this in Kurt’s apartment.

The door opens the apartment next door, and Sebastian looks more confused than he had before. It had been under construction since Kurt moved in, but there are printing presses and boxes upon boxes of supplies. Sebastian takes in his surroundings and Rodrigo lights a cigarette before explaining himself.

“He’s been supplying ink, for every batch we print, he gets a cut. It’s not a bad deal. We’re the best in the city, never been caught, never been watched. He’s got a pretty good cut stashed in here. How much does he need?” So it’s a counterfeiting ring. Of course, of course Kurt would be involved with something illegal, and Sebastian makes a mental note to remind him that he’d been correct in suspecting something less than savory going on. But this. He’d never expected this. Sebastian’s been quiet for too long, but he’s a little busy reveling in the fact that Kurt is the last person anyone would expect to be supplying anything to a drug dealer/counterfeit master, and beyond that, he’d managed to hide it from Sebastian for as long as it’d been going on.

“F-five hundred thousand.” The reaction is far different from his father’s, but Rodrigo nods and Sebastian figures he should stay put when the other moves, taking to one of the back rooms. He’s calling out; making conversation and Sebastian can hear a rustling of some sort, but he’s not about to find out what’s going on.

“What’s going on? Is he okay?” Sebastian’s breath is caught, effectively stifling his words while a chill rises up his spine, sliding through his chest and down his arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in the wake. He knows exactly what’s going on, and now that he has to voice it, the weight of it is almost too much. He feels sick and dizzy and he leans against the wall, hands covering his face, scrubbing over it quickly.

“It’s my fault. I had um- I had a pretty bad gambling problem a while back. A quarter million on this race, and I rigged it, took some guys for their quarter, they’ve figured it out, and now they’re out for revenge- and, maybe revenge isn’t the right word, they just want the money, theirs and mine, which I was forcibly coerced to donate to charity to outweigh what had been done, so now I’m down all the money, they’ve got Kurt and I’m out of options, and if I don’t get it to them in the next two and half hours… well, I’m sure you can figured it out.” Rodrigo is in front of him, a backpack in hand.

“I don’t do this shit for free, you know,” he informs Sebastian, and Sebastian nods quickly, starting his apologies and promises.

“I’ll pay it back, I swear I will, I just, I couldn’t get it in time, and- and—“ he’s cut off when Rodrigo smiles and shakes him head.

“It’s a joke, man. This is Kurt’s. Just uh- make sure he’s safe, alright?” Sebastian nods, taking the bag tightly. He wants to thank him, but he’s not sure what’s appropriate, and has a second to think that maybe he cares for Kurt, and he’s not really all that surprised, because it’s impossible not to. He’d fought it for far longer than he wishes he had, and the second he’d actually gotten some wits about him, he’d gone for it, and he can’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t, and it just makes the situation so much worse because Kurt, wonderful, amazing Kurt is in pain and in danger because of his idiot boyfriend.

He settles with a “thanks” before they part ways and Sebastian checks his watch again. He’s down to two hours, but he’s not about to go a minute early. He knows how these men work and he doesn’t want to seem overeager, lest they may things worse for them in the long run.

He takes the stairs back up to Kurt’s apartment, walking gingerly through the mess of papers that scatter the floor. It’s more than a little overwhelming to be there, and he can only imagine what Kurt would have gone through that night. He can almost pinpoint when it would have happened. He’d dropped him off late after Kurt had insisted that he needed sleep before work the next morning, but Sebastian didn’t want to let him go and Kurt refused to let him in because “It’ll defeat the whole purpose of going home if you stay,” he’d said. So Sebastian had taken his time with “one more kiss”, slow and sweet each time he’d asked. He’d stalled for as long as he could before Kurt was actually in the door. He realizes now, with such intensity that it takes his breath away, that when he thought he’d heard Kurt drop his keys, it probably wasn’t because of the two glasses of wine, that he’d actually heard the beginning of Kurt’s abduction.

Sebastian doesn’t have time for this. He doesn’t have time to sit and recount his mistakes, he knows the list is entirely too long for that, so he moves to the bedroom, grabbing at the duffle bags that Kurt hadn’t put away from that weekend trip to the country, and Sebastian laughs incredulously at the chain of events before he starts grabbing for clothes, careful to pick Kurt’s favorites and beloveds, placing them, carefully folded, into one bag before grabbing for the drawer of his own things to dump haphazardly into the other, realizing how symbolic of their relationship it is. He pauses to snag a couple of pictures from the dresser, one of Kurt, Blaine and his dad at his college graduation, and another of the two of them, the newest edition to the collection, from just a few weeks back.

He checks and double checks, making sure that all the things they’ll really  _need_  are packed away before finally daring to unzip the backpack. There’s a note that he doesn’t read but shoves in his pocket for later, rifling through the stacks of bills, wrapped perfectly as though they were right out of a bank vault, and he silently prays that they’ll pass the prying eyes of his enemy. His knuckles hit metal at the bottom and he carefully draws the gun from the bag, eyeing it skeptically. Taped to the side is a small scrap of paper, Kurt’s handwriting, and all it says is “in case of emergency.” He knows what this means, he knows they’re not safe if for nothing else than the fear of being caught paying Kurt’s ransom with counterfeit bills, and now more than ever, he’s fully aware of how dangerous these men are. He slides the gun into the side of his jeans and tightens his belt around it, keeping it settled tight against his hip while he lays his shirt and jacket over it, checking himself quickly to make sure it’s not visible. He drops the bank bag into his duffel, dragging out a stack of bills first to shove into his pocket.

He hails a cab once he’s outside, checking his phone. He’s an hour early, but traffic will allow him there just about on time.

“The docks,” he instructs, and everyone in this city knows what he means. He doesn’t need to elaborate, he doesn’t need to direct, and it leaves too much time to think it over. He knows how the exchange will go, and when they’re face to face, he’s got the power to make his demands. Kurt first, then the money. They’ll offer an exchange at the same time and Sebastian will accept, and once they’re satisfied they’ll be on their way, far off to never be found again unless they want to be. He knows there’s a select few that will know their location, and this is something they’ll never speak of to anyone but each other.

They’re a block away when Sebastian says it’s far enough, and he digs into his pocket for spare cash, tossing it to the front before ducking out of the cab and down an alley. He scopes it out, shoving a few garbage bags aside and using them to hide the duffle bags before finally making his way down the sidewalk and onto the docks. It’s dark and empty, just as Sebastian would expect it to be, and he figures they’ve gained control of it, at least for the night, but they’re nowhere in sight, so he fades into the shadows and checks the time again. 8:58. He waits silently, hands shaking and breath quick while he watches. He knows they won’t come from the street, they’re not that stupid, and he’s proven right when they emerge from the darkness at the other end of the dock. He steps forward when they’re in view and he can see Kurt, brave as ever, despite the whole body trembling. Sebastian is the first to speak.

“I’ve got your money. Let him go, Nate.” His voice is steadier than he’d expected it to be, demanding and forceful. There’s a laugh from one of the four men across from him, and the tallest one steps forward. He’s not much to look at, lean and lanky with a nose too big for his face and squinty eyes hidden behind square framed glasses. He’s the leader of it all and Sebastian knows him well.  

“Here we are again, Smythe.” He pauses for a deep breath, and Sebastian knows full well it’s for dramatic effect. His jaw clenches in anger because he’s so close to having Kurt safe in his arms again and they’re fucking stalling.

“You know, this all could have been avoided. You could go on living your obliviously happy life, your twink would be alright and you’d not have to scavenge the city begging for money if you just hadn’t  _fucked with the wrong guy,_ ” he steps closer, fists clenched, but Sebastian is faster, grabbing for the gun at his waist. His hands are steady and his aim is better than he’d imagined, gripping tightly with both hands, finger ready to pull the trigger. The man cocks his head, hands up in defense, and Sebastian is vaguely aware of the two lackeys, one with a gun on him and one with a gun on Kurt, but he can call their bluff.

“Alright, alright. Everyone gets their way,” he hears the promise, but he’s not about to let it go that easily. He steps forward, the gun still firm in his hands and pointed to kill.

“Let him go,” Nate instructs and Kurt surges forward with a shove between his shoulder blades. He’s caught on the way, Nate’s fingers around his wrist and Sebastian drops one hand, shrugging the backpack off his shoulder, extending it with the free hand.

“Same time.” Kurt is reaching for him and Nate is reaching for the bag. Sebastian steps closer and Kurt’s fingers are around his wrist and Sebastian is vaguely aware that he’s begging to be let go. They release together, Sebastian the bag and Nate Kurt’s wrist and Sebastian shoves the gun back in place just in time for Kurt to collapse against his chest. His cheek is pressed to his hair and Kurt is clinging to him, his body heaving with sobs.

“Pleasure doing business,” Nate offers once he’s checked through the bag, and Sebastian relaxes a little, pulling himself back to place his hands on either side of Kurt’s face while the men disappear again. He looks him over, chin quivering and he’s not sure if it’s from fear, relief or anger at this point. He thumbs over Kurt’s cheeks slowly, whispering repeated apologies between kisses to his forehead, but Kurt can’t speak and Sebastian is sure that he’s in shock. He releases Kurt long enough to remove his jacket, laying it over Kurt’s shoulders before replacing his arms around him, muttering another quiet “I’m so fucking sorry, baby, I swear I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, okay?”

Kurt isn’t answering him more than a nod and he’s pressed so tightly to Sebastian that Sebastian couldn’t move if he wanted to, and he does want to because he knows they need to bail and leave the city behind as fast as they can. More than he knows any of that, though, he knows that Kurt needs this, just to be close and feel safe again because it’s not the first time that he’s been told, even if Kurt isn’t speaking the words, that he feels untouchable where he is.

It seems like hours before Kurt finally moves and Sebastian looks him over quickly, speaking softly, “are you hurt?”

Kurt doesn’t really answer, just a shake of his head and Sebastian knows it’s not entirely true because he can see the bruises peeking out from under the collar of his shirt and he can see the tiny drops of blood that litter the front of it and dried around his nostrils and below his lip. Sebastian leans in, kissing him short and gentle before finally breaking the ice, “we can’t stay here, Kurt.”

It seems to be all he needs to say, and he’s sure that it was already known because Kurt was the one that directed him to Rodrigo in the first place, but Sebastian still feels a little like he’s dropped a bomb. He’s not the first to move and that’s surprising to him, but Kurt stays close while they head for the street and Sebastian quickly tucks an arm around his shoulders, keeping him tight against his side while he directs them into the alley, moving quick to uncover their bags, dropping the gun down in their place. He pulls his shirt off, tossing it away in the pile before grabbing another from his back to pull it on over his head quickly, finding one for Kurt to do the same.

He’s still not entirely responsive, and Sebastian is worried more than he can voice, but knows that working through it right now isn’t an option. He stands with a shirt and a hoodie of his own, meeting Kurt’s eyes.

“I need you to do me a favor, okay? I need you to change that shirt,” he explains, glancing behind him quickly while Kurt strips out his shirt as well and Sebastian helps him to put the fresh one on and follow it with the hoodie. He shoves his jacket into the bag and zips them both, tossing them over his shoulder just in time for two familiar figures to round the corner.

“One more favor, baby. Run.” He takes Kurt’s hand and he’s surprised again that he doesn’t have to coax Kurt into moving, but he’s running beside him, turning onto the busy sidewalks and down another street to a stroke of luck with a cab parked close by, waiting for anyone to approach. Sebastian checks behind them while he ushers Kurt into the car, sliding in himself with another request.

“There’s a hundred dollar bill to get us to JFK as quickly as possible,” he extends the money, not willing to take the time once they’re unloading at the airport, and the dazed look that Kurt wears is enough to make him feel guilty all over again. He settles back in the seat, his arms securing themselves around Kurt’s shoulders again, spewing apologies into his hair, but Kurt doesn’t dare ask why. Not yet, and he’s not sure he even wants to know what Sebastian had gotten mixed up with to cause all of this.

Their arrival at the airport is haphazard at best, weaving in and out of traffic to the drop off, and while he’s questioning whether they’ll make it in one piece, he’s more than a little relieved all the same, realizing how difficult it’d be for anyone to follow them, and he’s pretty sure they actually lost them a while back. He pulls himself from the car before they’re fully stopped and reaches in for the bags and Kurt’s hand, his eyes darting suspiciously around the drop off while they maneuver their way through the crowd.

He pauses at the desk and leans closer to speak with the rep and pays with cash, taking a second to dig for their passports and Kurt’s ID in the end of his bag, dropping them off to be checked once he had them in hand.

Thankful for his status, they make it through check in quick enough, and Sebastian detours Kurt to the bathroom, grabbing a few paper towels to wet and attempt to clean him up. He carefully and wordlessly dabs at the dried blood and dirt on Kurt’s face, though he’s not entirely sure what’s dirt and what’s just bruised, but he’s careful not to press too hard or wipe too harshly. They remain as they’ve been for a few long minutes, Kurt wincing and Sebastian quietly uttering his apologies until Kurt finally speaks.

“Where are we going?” It’s quiet and Sebastian’s chest sinks with how broken he sounds. He keeps dabbing, pressing the towel over Kurt’s lip and avoids his eyes.

“You know how you always ask what it’s like living in Paris? You’re about to find out.”


End file.
